


Los Paranoias

by SittingOnACornflake



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, a bit of angst, a bit of overwhelming feelings, los paranoias, ringo is oblivious, starrison, this can be read as a friendship fic or a pre-relationship one, why isn't that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27263980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SittingOnACornflake/pseuds/SittingOnACornflake
Summary: Today they're not the Beatles; they're the Paranoias.George isn't here, and Ringo misses George.
Relationships: George Harrison & John Lennon & Paul McCartney & Ringo Starr, George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Los Paranoias

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this some time ago and finally decided to post it. I hope you'll like it even if it's not much!

“Los Paranoias, come and enjoy us,” Paul sings, fake Spanish accent at its most overdone.

The famous McCartney method to learn Spanish in less than a take. Blabber some Spanish words. Mix them with English ones, preferably with the letter s everywhere so you can hiss it until it obnoxiously fills your ears.

Ringo shakes his head in disapproval, keeping the beat nevertheless as Paul and John improvise happily, apparently oblivious to how wrong it seems to their bandmate. _That's not what Spanish sounds like,_ Ringo feels like saying. But then he'd spoil the take. Maybe someday they'll decide to make something of this cracky mess. They could release it between the hundredth take for “I Will” and the thousandth for “Not Guilty”. As much as Ringo dislikes it, he has to admit there's some freshness to _making up_ a beat instead of polishing the same one for ages. So he plays along, adds occasional cymbals to the whole thing, shakes his head from side to side as if everything was alright.

But it's not alright.

It's just a normal day and it isn’t.

Of course, he knows Paul and John are just doing this for a laugh. It’s not their fault if he feels disconnected today. He’s out of it, can't bring himself to enjoy Paul's stupid lyrics that are making John grin like the Cheshire cat Ringo knows he is during the full moon.

The worst about this? There's no reason for him to feel like that. The only thing that's different from what it should be – it's only a detail – a casualty – a one-time change that will be solved first thing tomorrow … They're only three in the studio today.

There's Paul who keeps singing his silly made6up lyrics – _come and enjoy usssss_ – and there's John having fun with wood blocks as if it’s all he ever wanted to do.

There's Ringo himself, doing his best to look cheerful because _God, shouldn’t it be a relief to take a break from recording that bloody “I Will”?_

“We’re here to sing for you,” Paul goes on playfully, sharing a smile with John.

Hearing that is almost too much for Ringo.

_No, no, no, we're not. We're not here to sing for anyone, we can’t sing if one of us is missing._

That's it. It has been said at last. George isn’t here today and Ringo misses George.

Somehow it feels wrong to play without him. They have recorded tracks that didn’t need one of them before, but it has always made Ringo slightly uncomfortable, as if it were treason. A mild one, that nobody cares about except him, but a treason nevertheless. _I don’t want to play without George. I don't want to record new songs without him, even if it's something that no one will ever hear._

As if on cue, Paul turns his head towards him and meets his gaze before flashing him a smile. Ringo does his best to reply. He knows he's not doing a good job at being convincing. At least his playing's alright.

Ringo looks away. His gaze automatically wanders where George would normally stand.

_Come on,_ he scolds himself as Paul launches himself into a series of onomatopoeias, _George has the right to take a day off._ _You know he'll be back tomorrow._

But he just misses him. He hadn’t even expected it. When you see someone every day, you somehow begin to forget how much you like that person. You're so accustomed to be with them all the time that when they aren’t here ... Ringo sighs.

Paul sings relentlessly, and then Ringo's eyes meet his again. Paul frowns.

“Take some drums,” he then says.

John looks up at them both. Something shines in his gaze and he nods at Ringo, beginning a drum impro on his wood blocks. Ringo follows, because he's used to it, used to follow, always. But it's fun, still. John is smiling, Paul is smiling too – he's actually trying to stifle a laugh, brows furrowed the slightest bit because he's probably trying to figure out what his next lyrics will be.

“Los Paranoias,” John silently says to him, not a sound coming from his mouth. His lips keep moving after that. It takes Ringo a few seconds to reconstruct the words in his head. “We’re not the Beatles,” John has said. “No Beatles, only Paranoias.”

Ringo's sure John meant it with that fake Spanish accent as well. _Sure thing, John,_ he thinks, wiggling his eyebrows at him to show he's understood. _We're not the Beatles._

And then something clicks in his head. _We're not the Beatles. When George isn’t here, we're not the Beatles. We might be any other band in the world. We might be these Paranoias that Paul seems so fond of all of a sudden._

That makes sense. John is having fun. Paul is having fun, and when put into that proper light ... It's not a bad thing to have fun and endeavour to record something decent – or not decent at all, in this case – while George is away. _We’re only Los Paranoias today. Another band, but a band nevertheless._

Paul shakes the maracas as if to emphasize what Ringo is thinking, as if to say _yes, we’re here. And you're with us._

It seems that is all he needed.

Ringo drums with renewed enthusiasm, giving their imaginary audience some more drums. He'll think about it all later. There's certainly something meaningful hidden in all this – nothing is ever meaningless when George is involved. That enigma of him missing George so much without any reason, though – it’s funny and curious, and it'll have to wait until he's a Beatle again.

Paul and John are here, and they need him to be Los Paranoias. This afternoon, his name might as well be Billy Shears.


End file.
